Self and reality. Symbol and language. Myth and image. Memory and consciousness.
Dream and unreality: locus communis.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Words Often Fail

In view of the recent events in Connecticut, one feels the need to say something, say anything, really... but words often fail in times like these. Rhetoric remains merely rhetoric. Useless phonetics.

On my Twitter account I posted: "Holding my son tight tonight. It seems that is all I can do."

—and that is all I can do for the last two days; this afternoon in fact, after his midday nap, when he was still in a groggy-stage of waking, we sat on the couch listening to our house settle around us, letting our bodies fall into the slow motion of a quickly disappearing now moment of time. I held his two-year-old body close, wanting to memorize his warmth, the weight of his presence in my arms, the smell of his golden blonde hair. It was all a selfish act on my part— I realize this. Ricky was at work. The news streaming everywhere displayed the unthinkable. There are parents in the Eastern U.S. are without the same luxury, the same lingering presence. The full tide of sorrow seemed to drown the day.

What it all comes down to is the fact, we as humans no longer can read the full manuscript of progress. The language of the codex is indecipherable— so all I can do is rock Brendan as if he were months old. Slow motions of consolation for the two of us.

2 comments:

  1. How painfully true.
    I listened to the news and wept and my tears felt too too inadequate. There are no words.
    My own daughter - an adult of 22 now - was in the reception class at her Primary School (Dykehead) when the Dunblane massacre unfolded here. A gun man shot dead little children and their teachers. I was at University. Coming from a lecture. A tutor was screaming in the corridor. Howling a sound I'll never forget as her own children were in that Dunblane school. They were safe - we all heard later - but the sound of her pain changed us all who heard it - and who sat through the news reports that day and the days after.
    There is no sense to any of it. None.
    And the only response to it is to hug our own children closer to us. To love even more intensely than before.

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  2. I do remember that event being discussed in the news— doing a quick fact check, the Dunblane massacre darkly echoes the Sandy Hook shooting last week. Dear God, what are we doing to ourselves?

    The whole reality of both situations result in an overwhelming tide of disbelief, horror, anger—

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